The Rebellion Burns Bright

East of Clarkston, Texas, the United States of America
January 20th, 1834

Captain Robert E. Lee took out a pair of binoculars and looked towards the enemy troop formation across the San Jacinto River. He and the troops under his command (after his two former companies were absorbed into the 2nd Infantry Division and he was assigned a command under a different company) were waiting for the British to make a push towards the town. Despite the British Army's rapid advance into Jefferson and Alabama, the Redcoats in Texas were surprisingly... restrained. By "restrained," Captain Lee meant that the British merely bombarded the defensive earthworks around Clarkston instead of directly advancing into the town itself. In fact, the British Army hadn't even aimed most of their fire on Clarkston, as they specifically aimed for the American soldiers manning the defenses. Unfortunately, the 2nd Infantry Division was unable to respond in kind, as they lacked artillery to do so. The units that were sent to Oregon often lacked "heavy" equipment, as the vast forests of the Northwest and the intense close combat in the region made cannons and mortars less than useful. And the 2nd Infantry Division was promised heavy equipment after it returned to the east coast, so they left the few mortars they had behind. Thankfully, the commanding officer of the division, an old Brigadier General named William Henry Harrison, wasn't an idiot and utilized his team of veteran sharpshooters to pick off British officers and troops like there was no tomorrow. He purposely left his regular soldiers back in the defensive lines around Clarkston because the British soldiers could somewhat match the Lee Rifles and Samuel Rifles that the Americans were equipped with (as all the British soldiers were equipped with breechloaders). As such, teams of sharpshooters roamed around independently to inflict casualties on the British lines.

Besides, charging enemy lines without any artillery support while the enemy had more than a few pieces of artillery wasn't the sanest of choices. So Captain Lee was grateful that the leader of the "Texas Guards" (as some of the locals called them) was capable.

Lance Corporal Obidah Lincoln, the young lad that had been with him through the past two months, came up to him and saluted. The lad had been promoted by General Harrison (with input from Captain Lee) due to his valiant efforts during the initial phases of the invasion and the defense of Texas, "Captain, we've finally received a message from Columbia."

"What did it say?" Captain Lee said as drew closer to the enlisted soldier, "Any orders? News? Anything?"

The 2nd Infantry Division had been deprived of information for the past two months. They had no idea how the rest of the United States was doing, except for some sporadic news they received from refugees coming from the south or runners from the west. The westernmost telegraph lines only extended to St. Louis and New Orleans, with the former being too far away for contact and the latter being under enemy occupation. And with the state of Texas under sudden attack from the British Army, the division was distracted with defending from the British advance. After things settled into a stalemate (with the British refusing to cross the river and commit to an all-out attack and the Americans lacking any artillery support and manpower to crush the 15,000 or so British soldiers that opposed them), General Harrison received word that Wichita was now connected to St. Louis by a telegraph line, due to extensive construction efforts by the American government. A runner, who knew binary code, was sent to the Kiowa city with due haste to send a message to Columbia and receive a response. And it seemed like he had finally returned with the news they were waiting for.

"It said that Columbia sent out a runner from St. Louis two weeks after the invasion began, but the runner was killed by a British skirmishing unit on his way here. I believe it's best that you look at the message directly though, sir. General Harrison has already received the original message, but this message was specifically for you."

A telegram slip was handed to him and the captain read the message carefully. He was surprised to discover that Colonel Cooper was still alive, and was evacuated to American lines by resistance fighters a week after the invasion began. His mind still recalled the bombardment and the Alliance invasion vividly, with hundreds of good soldiers dying from enemy fire while he was ordered to flee with his men. It was an unforgettable, and terrible, memory.

"The good colonel is alive," The Virginian mentioned to his subordinate from Kentucky, "He's been promoted to Brigadier General, though he is currently in a hospital for treatment. Shrapnel wound to his leg, he'll have to walk with a cane for some time."

"That is good news," Lance Corporal Lincoln exclaimed. He proceeded to immediately straighten his posture, "Sir."

"And it looks like I have been promoted as well."

"Sir?"

"I've been promoted to a Major for my "heroics" at Fort Hamilton and for my efforts of safely evacuating hundreds of American soldiers. I've been granted my own battalion."

"Will you be leading one of the battalions in the Second Infantry Division?"

Captain Lee shook his head, "No. I have received orders that a "special" battalion is on its way to our position and I will be in charge of it."

The lance corporal's eyes widened, "A special battalion sir? Does that mean you will lead a special forces group?'

A moment of silence passed before the officer threw his head back in an ungentlemanly manner and roared with laughter, "Me? Leading a group of special soldiers? Oh, that is one hell of a joke, Lance Corporal."

"No, I mean... You're a great officer, captain," Lincoln sputtered as he looked around frantically, "I thought they were giving you a special promotion for your works so far."

"SOCOM is its own, independent branch. They are very special, far beyond my reach. No, the battalion heading our way is a newly formed unit made up of Native Americans. It says that they will arrive... today. And after they arrive, we are to make an attempt to dislodge the British from their current position and push them eastward..."

Just hours later, a thousand or so Native Americans arrived from the north on horses and their "leader," a tall and lean Missouri Indian named Kemarax (which literally meant "mud turtle' in the Missourian language), shook hands with Major Lee, "It's nice to meet you, sir. I'm Kemarax, and we are the Rangers."

"Rangers?" Major Lee asked with a raised eyebrow, "Are you telling me that all of you were National Park Rangers?"

"No, no. Just me and a few others, and the remaining men decided to call this unit "the Rangers." But every warrior you see here are all volunteers from the tribes of Oto, Iowa, and Missouri. You will never find braver men anywhere else in the United States," Kemarax puffed out his chest proudly.

"Where have you served?"

"Up in the north, putting down the traitors," The Missourian grimaced, "Cheyenne and Crow, along with numerous other tribes, are in open rebellion. We have been hunting them down for the past year until we were asked by the government to come down here and chase the invaders out."

Major Lee noticed that all the men were armed with Samuel Carbines (modified Samuel Rifles for cavalry), spears, and tomahawks. Due to their lack of military uniforms, the scars on their bare arms and legs were visible. Nodding his head, the American officer turned back to the former Park Ranger, "Do you have an official rank?"

"I was granted one before I came here. I am a Captain, from what I was told."

"I will allow you to take the brunt of the commanding duties until I have a feel for your unit, Captain Kemarax. Until then, please fill me in as much as you can."

"Of course. I am sure that you know what our unit is specialized for?"

"I wasn't told anything about your unit's 'specialization.'" The newly-minted Major responded while looking at the troops.

Kemarax grinned, "Shock troopers, sir. Or at least, that's what the military officers from Columbia call us. We strike hard, fast, and relentlessly. We're excellent both in shooting and melee. We managed to score numerous victories over our foes because of our combination of cavalry, marksmanship, and close-combat."

"Rangers... the shock troopers. That certainly has a nice ring to it. I'm sure this unit will be critical in the upcoming attack on the British."

The Native American man's grin widened even further, "Oh, I'm sure."